


is there's anything that's worth more than peace and love

by netherfriends



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Maybe - Freeform, Running Away, This is weird, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), sorta - Freeform, sorta until techno convinces tommy not to, the foster care system being fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherfriends/pseuds/netherfriends
Summary: Tommy's always been loud. At first it had been just a challenge, a duel between him and his mind. When his mind got loud he got louder. Then it just became natural order. Be loud enough to that it blocks out everything, it blocks off every hit, every word, every new home he goes to. He doesn't know how to be quiet. Every time he gets yelled at he yells right back. Every time he gets hurt by someone, he makes sure they knew that it didn't affect him.Strangely enough, Tommy's thoughts are quiet.Of course, the problem with being loud is that every part of you is loud. Everything Tommy feels is on display for the whole word, his emotions always louder than anything. Sometimes, Tommy's emotions overtake his thoughts, ever so loud.It hurts more than Tommy can bear.ORauthor is obsessed with foster care tommyinnit aus so shut up and take this
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 278
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	is there's anything that's worth more than peace and love

**Author's Note:**

> i'm most definitely gonna make more works for this au

Tommy's always been loud. At first it had been just a challenge, a duel between him and his mind. When his mind got loud he got louder. Then it just became natural order. Be loud enough to that it blocks out everything, it blocks off every hit, every word, every new home he goes to. He doesn't know how to be quiet. Every time he gets yelled at he yells right back. Every time he gets hurt by someone, he makes sure they knew that it didn't affect him.

Strangely enough, Tommy's thoughts are quiet.

Of course, the problem with being loud is that every part of you is loud. Everything Tommy feels is on display for the whole word, his emotions always louder than anything. Sometimes, Tommy's emotions overtake his thoughts, ever so loud.

It hurts more than Tommy can bear.

\--

The thing about having quiet thoughts is that whatever they say is powerful. Tommy takes his time, his thoughts working in the background. They think, and think, until the perfect moment comes. And then they're right there, and yet so out of reach. Telling him things to keep him going, to keep him up on his toes. They gain his trust, and then leave once again.

His emotions come back, and they're always tugging him around into tight corners. They don't think about the consequences and Tommy just blindly follows. His thoughts are simple but straight forward, short but clever.

And that's why now, when his thoughts finally step up, is a very good moment for them to do so. Tommy had been going on instinct, but one word tore through his entire being.

" _Run_."

So he did, beaten up shoes pounding against the sidewalk. He didn't hear the voices calling for him, (" _A thief!_ " They cried), nor did he feel the people he bumped into. All he could do was cling to his one thought, and move with practice to avoid getting caught. He was too focused, and yet not enough.

And that's how he felt himself hit the floor, everything coming back to him quicker than ever. His thoughts were gone once again, and now he felt everything _too_ much. His vision blacked out, the police standing over him.

And with his retreat, his thoughts muttered to him once more.

Fuck.

\--

Tommy shifted, groggily opening his eyes. He was in the back of the police car, he briefly registered. The leather against his (bruised) cheek scratching it roughly. Tommy leaned up, trying to move his hands, confused when he couldn't. He looked down, and was greeted by the sight of cuffs clasped around his wrists.

"Damn it." He mumbled, leaning his head back into the police car.

\--

"-ommy I'm so disappointed in you! Do you know how I feel when I talk to the police about how you stole something again!?" Tommy only nodded, head turned down. He gritted his teeth, his social worker staring him down.

"Tommy, are you listening?"

Tommy growled, "Yeah I'm listening!" He snapped at the social worker, getting a bit of satisfaction to how his words made an annoyed expression overtake her face.

His social worker rubbed her temple, and then turned to him.

"One more home, _one_ more. Don't screw this up alright?"

Tommy slumped into his chair.

"Fine."

\--

Tommy stared at the house before him. Despite it's nice exterior it was threatening. There were six windows, two bigger and on the bottom floor it seemed. Then four on the top floor, all that granted easy access to the roof.

"Get over here you brat." Tommy grumbled but stepped onto the porch. He made note of how the porch creaked, the planks definitely needed replaced. Only use this exit to escape if there was absolutely no other choice.

His social worker was talking to the guy who would be holding him hostage. He looked nice enough, but looks could deceive. 

This was only his 10th home this year, and yet he kept going back. By now everyone was sure that no one would ever take him, which Tommy wasn't going to disagree with. In fact he went out of his way to make trouble. Might as well get out of there as fast as possible, no attachments, nothing holding him down.

"Well, that'll be all. Good luck." His social worker turned away, and drove away. It was only him and the other guy.

"Hello Tommy, I'm Phil." Phil offered him a smile, but Tommy turned away. It was irritating at how Phil didn't even falter.

Tommy stepped inside, lugging his backpack along with him. The house was nice, clean and mostly neat except for some things strewn around the place. It was nice and homey, and there was a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen. Tommy didn't fit in here at all, what with his ripped up clothes and dirty figure and his falling apart backpack.

"I have a sweater for you, it's one of my son's older ones, but I thought you would need it." Tommy looked down at himself, and silently agreed.

Phil offered him a smile, before handing him a grey sweater. Tommy begrudging put it on.

Phil began going around and showing him places, he paid extra attention. Not because he was going to stay here long, but because he needed to know the exterior to escape easily.

"This is Wilbur's room, he's my other son. He's at university right now, but he'll be coming back next week for Christmas break." Oh right, it was Christmas next week, Tommy had forgot.

Phil led him to another room, "This is Techno's room. He doesn't really like people going in there without knocking."

Good, because Tommy wasn't planning on staying long.

Phil opened another room, which was white and barren, except for an empty bed and a dresser. 

"This'll be your room, you can put your stuff wherever. I'll be in the kitchen." Phil offered him a kind smile, before leaving Tommy alone.

Tommy carefully put his bag on the floor (he had some important stuff in there) and sat down on the bed, making no move to unpack. He was already forming a plan, go out the window tonight, and be quiet (easy). It was simple and easy, and therefore didn't serve any room for flaws.

Well, there certainly _have_ been mistakes when running away, Tommy subconsciously rubbed his arm.

Phil said he was in the kitchen, Tommy better go down before he seems suspicious. And also to know how these people work. 

Tommy pocked his pocket (hah) knife, before making his way downstairs. Better safe than sorry.

\--

Phil was nice, and it _almost_ made Tommy feel guilty. Key word being almost. Phil was mostly making conversation with Techno, with only having Tommy talk a couple times. It was better than being forced to talk, and having all the attention be on him. Phil had made spaghetti (Tommy had pronounced it wrong when saying it), and it was definitely better than the food they served at the other foster homes.

Only problem, Techno was staring at him.

It was creepy, and therefore he looked at his food instead of at the piglin.

Well, half piglin.

Every part of Tommy's body wanted him to move, get out of there, before they did something to him. He was constantly twitching with the effort to not bolt out of there. He had did that once, and he had gotten locked in his room for a day or two.

( _"Please don't, I'm claustrophobic,_ please _!" Tommy banged on the door, not even caring when his skin became red._ )

Tommy flinched, and pretended not to notice when Techno focused on him.

\--

Techno and Phil were surely asleep by now. The little clock by the bed said that it was almost 1am, so surely they wouldn't be awake by now.

(Of course, Techno was an insomniac, but Tommy didn't know that.)

He pried the window open, and cursed his shaky hands. He found a foothold, and climbed out, with his bag wrapped around him securely. He could get on the roof, then he could just climb onto the tree that was coincidentally close to the house. He managed to scramble onto the house, (definitely without almost falling), and found somewhere he could sit without the risk of falling off.

He would be gone by morning, so Tommy took the chance to admire the sky. The last time he got to was when he was thrown onto the grass, his blood staining it red, and he had thought that the stars had looked so pretty. Or maybe that was because he passed out right after.

In any case, the stars here were pretty as well. He tried to figure out which constellations were what, but his brain was too fuzzy. 

"You're going to fall."

Tommy flinched, and almost fell down if it weren't for the hand that shot out and grabbed him, pulling him back onto the roof.

"Oops." How the hell was Techno here? Tommy had planned it all perfectly, and he made _sure_ that he didn't make any noise.

Techno chuckled and sat down beside him, "Do you really think that you're the only person to have tried to run away?"

What?

"Phil found me, dying on the streets. Took me in, fed me, clothed me, basically made sure I was okay. But I tried to run away of course, exactly how you did." Techno chuckled, and looked up at the sky.

"I fell off, and Phil still bandaged me up. Wasn't even mad that I tried to leave."

Tommy stared at Techno, brows furrowed.

Techno turned to him, brown eyes seemingly staring into his soul.

"Phil, he's really nice. Raised me and Wilbur like we meant something, which was a first to me. I'm not gonna stop you from running, but you'll regret it." Techno returned his attention back to the sky, muttering words under his breath. They sounded like names.

Tommy climbed down and ran.

He was back before he even got to five minutes.

\--

Techno didn't say anything about that night, so Tommy avoided mentioning it as well. Of course, now Tommy stopped trying to run away (reluctantly, not because he wanted to stay, just because he needed to understand more).

Sometimes Tommy regretted it, when he spent time with Phil and a warmth blossomed in his chest.

 _You're growing fond, you idiot_ , his mind hissed at him.

No I'm not, Tommy argued back, despite knowing it was true. 

He _was_ growing awfully fond of the way Phil smiled at him, and included him in things, and paid attention to him. He was growing awfully fond of the way Techno gave him his cape when it was cold, and always made a ridiculous 'eh??' noise whenever he noticed some of his things were missing.

(Tommy stole them, just to get a reaction out of the other. Techno called him a raccoon.)

It was such a great feeling, but he couldn't grow fond, not when he _knew_ that he was gonna be kicked out. They would get bored of him eventually, throw him back into the system, and this time Tommy wouldn't know what to because this was his last chance, and so now he was going to be forced on someone else but this time he'd be stuck there, and Phil and Techno were so _nice_ -

Only a week had passed, Wilbur was coming.

Tommy had never met Wilbur, only saw pictures of him, and heard phone calls. What the fuck was he even studying? Should Tommy know that?

Well, first of all, Wilbur was tall. Which, hey, Techno was pretty tall too, and so was Tommy, (or maybe Phil was just short), but Wilbur was taller than all of them which honestly freaked him out even before he talked to the other man at all.

Wilbur played music, he had a guitar and he had set it down by the couch. Tommy wanted to touch it.

(Not because he was a raccoon, fuck off Techno.)

So despite _literally every warning he was giving himself_ , he found himself opening the case. It was a nice guitar, and Tommy found himself running his fingers over the wood. There had been a guitar, back at home, four? They had- they had hit-

Nevermind.

"Jesus, you're like a gremlin." Tommy jumped, his hand quickly getting away from the guitar.

"'M sorry-" Tommy was quick to apologize, but Wilbur just chuckled and sat down next to Tommy.

"Nah, it's fine." 

Wilbur picked up the guitar and played a chord, he made a hum, seemingly satisfied. Slowly, the tension left Tommy's shoulders as he gave his attention back to the other man.

Wilbur pushed his glasses forward up his nose from where they had been slipping off, and turned his gaze to Tommy.

"Would you like to hear a song?"

Tommy gave a hesitant nod.

Wilbur situated his hands, and began playing. Tommy didn't understand anything that the other man was doing, and how he was actually making music, but it was fascinating. Subconsciously, Tommy leaned forward, eyes open in awe.

Wilbur began singing, although it was in a language Tommy didn't understand, and Wilbur fumbled quite a lot, his voice was really nice to listen to. Tommy hummed along, although his voice was horrible and off-key, it made Wilbur laugh so that was a bonus.

When Wilbur finally stopped, Tommy couldn't help but start blurting out stuff.

"How the hell did you do? I don't know how to play guitar but you're like some sort of god. The _fuck_." Wilbur laughed, and Tommy leaned back.

"It was really nice."

Wilbur's eyes softened, "Thanks."

Maybe, just maybe, Tommy could get used to this place.


End file.
